


Little Black Book

by Hikario



Category: Kill Bill (Movies)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-19
Updated: 2007-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 04:22:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1631300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hikario/pseuds/Hikario
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elle has an obsession.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Black Book

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to my dear last-minute beta-reader(though I doubt she'll ever see this ^_~) Ari-chan. Thanks to Youssarian for letting me play in such a twisted mind. I hope you enjoyed! ^_^
> 
> Written for Youssarian

 

 

It started innocently enough, which should have been a warning sign. Nothing was innocent about Elle, not a thought, not an action. Certainly none of her tools or possessions were chosen with innocent uses in mind.

Yes, it should have sent up a red flag when she dodged his question with a flippant reply. "Just some notes." she said with a smirk, a coy twitch of her lips and a narrowing of her eyes. She was so seductive and sly that he let the evasion pass. Her smile was so very Elle, charming and sharp, looking up at him from her seat on the dojo floor. It was enough to make even Bill forget for just a moment that Elle was never flippant, never casual. She was frugal, dedicated, purposeful. Even knowing this, even knowing that she never smiled without a reason (usually one that had no right to motivate a smile on any other face), he let it pass.

He hadn't been surprised when he caught her taking notes after observing Beatrix training. Elle was a perfectionist. Beatrix was better then her. She knew it, and couldn't stand it. Bill would have been more worried were she not watching.

He was surprised, however, to look over her shoulder, breath in her ear, and have her start and slam the notepad shut.

"What were you writing?

So innocent, her reply.

~*~*~

She realized that she was making a big mistake when Elle unsnapped her bra, deftly with a two-finger pinch and a twist. But they were high on adrenalin, wired from the thrill of killing the most gorgeous creature to ever carry a sword not two hours ago, her blood still on their clothes. The smell was an aphrodisiac.

They were in a tiny bedroom in a shack outside of Dallas that Vernita had been using as her most recent base of operations. The air smelt stale, and the wall that was pressed against her back was cracked and beige from time and cigarettes. Vernita shimmied herself sideways, unbalancing them both without breaking the lock between Elle's lips and her own, or halting the grind of their hips against each other. They toppled onto the lumpy, too-small cot of a bed, and Elle popped the button off of Vernita`s fly. Her calloused, masculine hands ripped a hole in the red lace thong beneath, and Vernita moaned and thrust up against the pressing fingers.

She knew, looking into that calculating, hateful eye, that this was a horrible, horrible mistake. This was Elle. Deranged, sociopathic, obsessive Elle.

It was just one night.

The next morning, while Elle was in the shower and she was changing the linins, she noticed a little spiral notebook that had fallen down behind the headboard. It must have slipped out of Elle's pocket when her pants were thrown against the wall...

Vernita picked it up. Against her better judgement, she flipped to a random page. The shower was still running, it was safe, it was...

On the page in her hands was a list. A long column that read like a kung-fu training manual. A list of moves, techniques described with minute detail. The angle of the strike noted in the margin, along with a time stamp that seemed to list every other second. She flipped along. Pages and pages, notes, detailed notes on Tiger Crain and Eagle's Claw and on the next page...

A sketch. A damn good sketch, of Beatrix tied to a post, bleeding. Her clothes ripped, an obscene and erotic exposure of flesh.

After that, pages and pages of violent, bloody fantasy. How Elle wanted to tie Bee up, to cut her, to lick the wounds and spit in face, make her get on her knees and...

She felt herself sweating, but she was in too deep to stop now. She flipped forward, to the second last page with any writing. It was covered in incoherent chicken scratches that had torn through the paper in several places. Just discernable near the top were the words "She`s dead. She`s dead. She`s dead." jaggedly scrawled, blending into one another.

The last page described exactly what Elle planned to do with Beatrix's body. Vernita unconsciously rubbed her collar bone. She had a hickey in the exact location that Elle described as `the best place to bite and tear." In the background, she heard the shower turn off.

Vernita got the fuck out of that house as fast as her legs would take her, clutching a kitchen knife under her shirt until she was across the state line. Elle could keep the place, the crazy bitch. She only hoped, and for the first time in years prayed, that Bill would be enough man to keep her busy, now that the other blond psychopath was out of the picture.

~*~*~

It was a damn shitty day.

"Sir, we've found something identifying." A pimply young cadet shouted excitedly, like a kid with his first fish on the hook. Earl McGraw smiled wearily at him across the wreckage of a trailer. The place looked like a tornado had torn through it, only without breaking the walls or roof. Their was too much blood splattered everywhere to all be from the bloated, puffy corpse in the kitchen, which had no convenient lacerations either. Just bites all over his face that were too big and deep for a local rattler. This was going to involve paperwork. Fuck.

"Well hand'er over then." The kid lifted a small, cheap notebook from a pile of rubble in the bathroom. He delicately held it out in front of him as he walked over to Earl, who snatched it and began to roll through the pages, crinkling the edges and ripping the corners.

"Beatrix Kiddo. Kid, get on that name. I want to know if we know who she is." The cadet nodded, hurrying off. Earl flipped through the first pages of the notebook, already bored, then stopped abruptly. He whistled to himself. Whoever owned this book had some real kinky rape fantasies, pages and pages of them. This book was seeing the photocopier before it got to the evidence locker, that`s for sure. Then, near the middle, the word `snake' jumped off the page.

"Huh. Black Mamba." He turned the page, filing the information away in his mind to Google later.

The rest of the book was covered in scribbling, pages and pages repeating, getting more and more erratic and sloppy. Three words, again and again.

"Kill the bitch. Kill the Bitch. Kill The Bitch. KiLl the Bitch. kill the Bitch. KILl the Bitch. KILL the BITCH. KiLL the BITcH. KiLL THE BiTCH! KILL THE BITCH!"

 


End file.
